Thursday, July 05, 2012

I don't believe in omens. But the migraine I had this morning might make me a believer.

We love the fourth of July, and we especially love it in San Diego. We drive to Coronado and spend the day at the beach, and then watch the Big Bay Boom fireworks show from the helicopter hangars along the seawall on San Diego Bay. Year after year, it's a can't-miss fantastic holiday.

This year we brought a little grill and chicken wings and smores to tailgate with afterward, so we wouldn't have to sit in two hours of traffic to get off the island.

Thanks to the headache today, we got a pretty late start. And the beach was pretty cold. But the kids played anyway.

Now that I think about it, if the migraine hadn't been an omen, what happened next might've been.

My 6-year-old was crawling along the surf, digging on her hands and knees. I stood holding the baby while watching dolphins jumping just offshore. A very large lady stood several yards in front of me taking pictures of the dolphins with her cell phone. As a very cold wave washed toward her feet, she began to back up. Very quickly. I saw she was making a beeline for my daughter. I could see what was going to happen, but there was no way I could stop it.

The very, very large lady tripped over my Mary, sat down hard right on her, squashing her flat, then fell backwards spread-eagle on the sand with a big thud.

The woman's phone went flying onto wet sand, and I picked it up quickly to save it, as the woman was not making any move to get up. My daughter scrambled out from under the woman's legs, and ran to hide behind me, wailing.

It was a mess. They both ended up okay. I wrapped Mary in a blanket and made her sit down to calm herself.

I did not see that she sat right on my husband's key fob, sunglasses, and cell phone. Didn't know it, in fact, until she got up again and we saw the items lying in a puddle of water in the folding chair.

Glasses and key fob spared. Phone is now a paperweight.

I'd forgotten a lighter to light the grill for our hotdogs, but we finally borrowed some matches from some kind folks. A lot of matches, actually, as it was cold and windy.

Made it over to the seawall and settled in to watch fireworks. We were at the perfect point to see three barges surrounding us, all set to fire simultaneous shows. It began with a crazy huge one-minute inferno. Then there was nothing. All the families along the seawall waited. We speculated. Jamie's grill went out and his wings got cold, so he put more coals on.

Then an MP drove by with a loudspeaker, saying that there were no more fireworks, it was time to clear the area. Began flashing his lights.

I didn't know if the little grill was kosher on base, so I told Jamie, "I'm gonna make these smores right now before the popo shuts us down."

So Jamie held a rack of half-cooked chicken wings in his hands while I made smores for everyone.

Jamie sat in his little folding chair with the chicken in his hands and the fire dying to coals and the MP told him we needed to pack up and get going . Jamie pointed out there was two hours of traffic jam to sit in before getting off the island. The MP said he understood, and just to leave when we could. Then left.

Jamie leaned to me, "Popo not shuttin' US down."

We ate our wings, then began to pack up the car. We'd been listening to the radio, like most of the cars tailgating.

But we should have heeded the omens.

Battery was dead.

One other family was left, fishing further down the seawall, and they were happy to give us a jump.

Jamie accidentally let the clamps touch and sparks flew. The helpful stranger said, "Wow, that's a better show than we had tonight."

We finally got loaded and left, only to make a u-turn ten minutes later to search for my phone in the dark.

On the way home, the main road to our neighborhood was closed by police, and we had to take a dirt road detour.

As I put the kids to bed, my son asked why we took the "bumpy road," which woke everyone up. I said there was a roadblock. Of course. He rolled his eyes and said this was the worst Fourth of July ever.

My daughter pipes up, "No, this was the best Fourth of July ever!"

I couldn't stop myself.

"What? What was the best part? When the fat lady fell on you?"

And then I laughed myself to tears. And the kids all laughed in bed.

Then I kissed Mary goodnight, and as she closed her eyes, she told me, "The best part was the smores."

Monday, April 16, 2012

I often make comments to other wise and experienced mothers about how parenting is not how the parenting magazines depict it. You can literally drive yourself crazy feeling like a failure if you try to fill your days with crafts made from recycled trash, beautiful snacks made to look like small animals, and long family walks discussing self-esteem and gratitude.

And sometimes pragmatism has to over-rule the official word from the American Academy of Pediatrics on things like co-sleeping, or how old a child has to be before you can give them cough syrup, and how a child under two should never look at a TV screen.

I have four children and it's been many years since I was a new mother looking at a parenting magazines in the grocery-store checkout aisle. Because these days I am much too busy checking out magazine covers like this one:

And as I scan such covers, my mouth forms a tight little line, and sometimes my left eyebrow might go up a notch. Because I often have my six-year-old daughter with me. Who reads EVERYTHING. My nine-year-old son might be with me sometimes, but he has no interest in looking at images on ladies' magazine covers. (Yet.) But I have seen his mouth drop open and an embarrassed look come over him when faced with a 4-inch-tall SEX headline at his eye-level.

My daughter, however, is entranced by glamorous and fashionable role models. I was especially irked to see her excitement at finding Disney star Selena Gomez on the Cosmo cover, and tried to distract her before she read the words surrounding the teen star.

Yesterday at the commissary, my husband and I were in the checkout line for a long time with our two grocery carts and four kids. Leaving plenty of time for looking at glossy covers. My daughter quickly said, "Mommy, someone needs to cover up these inappropriate words!" Smiling with mirth, she puts her hands over some of the giant, bold-font "SEX" headlines.

I give my husband a look. We read the rest of that cover. And I can't help myself, I say loudly to him, "I would love to take that magazine over to the manager, along with our kids, and ask HER to answer their questions about it."

But I didn't. I am glad that Mary's response was one of healthy and innocent self-esteem. But as she pays more attention to the rest of the words that grace Cosmo's cover every month, I worry how that self-esteem and innocence will erode.

Tell me again why it's better for girls to worry about being good at sex when they grow up than being good at housekeeping?

Officials at North Island Naval Air Station have erected a lighted sign that reads “Fly Navy” as a celebration of the region’s role as the birthplace of naval aviation.

The $76,000 sign was mounted in January on the side of a building and faces northeast across the bay, toward Lindbergh Field.

The 14-foot-tall blue letters are illuminated between sunset and 11 p.m. When lit, the words are easily visible from Harbor Island and Interstate 5.

Navy officials in Coronado think nothing else like it exists at other naval bases in the United States. Maybe even the world.

I noticed in the coments, there are a few cranky criticisms, but I think this expression of pride in North Islands history and mission is a beautiful addition to our harbor. And honors all sailors who have served in support of Naval Aviation.

Monday, March 05, 2012

Eleven years ago, our three-year-old Eureka vacuum quit, and like most vacuums, it was not designed to be repaired. I decided to invest in an Oreck XL upright. The one in all the magazine ads, with the handheld attachment vac that can suck up a bowling ball. That one. I bought a refurbished floor model with a full warranty.

It was perfect. We recommended it to everyone we knew. So lightweight, I carry it up and downstairs with one hand. It's great on both thick carpets and hard floors. The only problems I ever encountered were to pull a string or ribbon off the beater bar, and to replace the belt every couple of years. Which cost a couple bucks at the Oreck store, and once the clerk gave me a bag of belts for free.

Last year my mother bought an Oreck XL, and my Dad questioned the higher price.

Mom said, "In the ten years that Kristi's had her Oreck, we've gone through three vacuums."

"I'm sold," replied Dad.

Last week, the power cord frayed, and it quit. From my kids' rough handling, the cord had split, and it just got yanked too far. My husband easily removed the entire cord from the handle and saw it would be easy to insert a new one.

The biggest problem was that all the Oreck stores have closed. There are some parts you can order online, but not a cord. Fortunately, he found a local repair shop that had the part.

Burdick's Sewing and Vacuum in Chula Vista was very helpful, and though they don't usually sell that part but do the repair themselves, they agreed to sell it to my husband, with a military discount. They even attached the proper plug-thing with wires (not the technical term) to the end for us.

So for under thirty bucks, our eleven -year-old vacuum is good as new. I still love it, I like having a HEPA bag to remove and throw away with no mess. It's the lightest full-power vacuum. The thing is, the sleek new Oreck models in the store were quite attractive . . . maybe one day when one of our kids gets their own place, we can pass down our old Oreck and then we'll get to buy a pretty new one!

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

The news this week that all troops will be leaving Iraq is a happy headline. The military community hopes Obama is right, and that Iraq can continue the hard-won progress for which so many Americans gave life and limb. And there are so many soldiers who've been deployed there for too long, there will happy families this Christmas.

But our military families understand this does not mean war and deployments are now behind us. We are an all-volunteer force, and so unless your contract is up, there will always be detachments and deployments, and duty to serve.

While this may seem like the end of the war for many Americans, that’s just not so for military families. We know service members and their families will keep serving, sacrificing, and dealing with deployments to dangerous places. Many service members—almost 100,000—are still fighting in Afghanistan. Many are away from home in other operations. Others are working long hours at their home stations in support of those in harm’s way. Those returning may soon be leaving for other assignments.

As a military wife of 14 years, who's weathered 7 deployments and homecomings, I am thrilled to think of all the joyous homecomings there will be this fall. I love to watch them on TV and on Youtube with a box of kleenex.

I also know the stress couples will feel as they try to return to normal daily life together.

It's a common joke among my Navy wife friends that at some point after a homecoming, about 3 weeks for me, that you think to yourself "Doesn't he have a boat to go to already!?"

And that thought is usually followed by guilt, because you know how much you longed for him while he was gone. How desperately you wanted him home every day.

But sharing and compromise is not easy to jump back into when you've been running a household, raising kids, living your life singly for many months on end. At first you're happy to compromise on what movie to watch, you don't care that he never does his dishes, it feels good to see him safely on the sofa watching NASCAR all weekend long, and it's not a big deal keeping the kids up late to have dinner with Dad when he comes home from work at 7 pm.

But after a couple weeks, it's irritating that his dirty clothes are everywhere, he still hasn't unpacked two seabags, and every time you try to coordinate your plans with him he's noncommittal. Then suddeny he's arguing with you over finances and how to discipline the children, and that's when you think, "Don't you have a boat to go to!?"

Most of us do it. There can be some big fights between couples about three weeks after a homecoming. Because it is hard for two independent adults who have gotten used to making independent decisions to compromise. Not about big things, but about little things, like what time to eat dinner, and where to toss your dirty socks. It wears you down and makes you cranky.

You just gotta figure it out. For us, I just have to accept that he has a right to change some of our routines, he is the Dad and my partner, and it's his house, too. He has to acknowledge that I've been running things my way for a reason, and I know what I'm doing. Messing with the routine has consequences.

Of course the answer is compromise and patience. The troops coming home this fall will probably be counseled on "transitioning" back to family life. In the initial Homecoming Honeymoon, compromise and patience will come pretty easily. But when the honeymoon's over, they'll have to take a deep breath and work at it.

I just hope they know it's normal. It gets better. It helps if you get off the couch and wash some dishes at halftime.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

When I visited my husband in Hawaii this summer, we went to the Pearl Harbor Memorial. We watched a film depicting the massive attack, the sinking ships, and the warnings that were overlooked. I was not the only person there sniffling and wiping away tears. It's overwhelming to imagine it, especially for people who are used to seeing bays full of Navy ships every day.

On our drive out of Honolulu, I looked back at Pearl Harbor and could see three separate rainbows in the drizzly yet sunny sky, a daily norm in Hawaii.

I said to Jamie, "You know, it's kind of symbolic that there are always rainbows over Pearl Harbor. God's sign that there wouldn't be another flood. Kind of a symbol that we will never let an attack like that happen again."

Without taking his eyes from the road, he replied, "Except we did."

Then we just drove in silence for awhile.

God bless America today, the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.

Friday, April 09, 2010

It's nice that my kids are recognized by the First Lady. But I wonder, what are they being recognized for? For being brave? For doing without their parents? For some, seeing their parents wounded or worse in service of our country?

My kids go long periods without their Dad when he is deployed. They are brave about the the dangers of his job, but then they are young, and a bit sheltered. And many kids grow up missing a parent, not just military kids.

I think the main difference that being military kids makes for my kids, is that they have a clear understanding of courage. They know there are bad guys in the world, and that the only way to make the world safe(er) and just is for brave people to step up.

They will not take freedom for granted. They know Dad misses their birthdays and summer vacations and many family dinners because he volunteers to defend democracy and America. That he helps catch bad guys on the other side of the world.

My kids have also lived in many parts of the country, visited many national parks and monuments on our cross country moves, and understand that the world is big. That communities vary widely. That there are many languages and skin colors and foods and cultures.

Do they need our governments' help? They already have health care, and housing, covered. What more can Uncle Sam do for them?

Jill Biden and Michelle Obama mention our communities, and that's exactly what our kids (and military spouses) need most. My friends and neighbors who babysit, or share a meal, or listen to you vent.Who bring in the garbage cans, or mow the lawn, or drive your kid to school. Help their at-home parent be a better parent, a less-stressed parent. I always say, when it comes to helping kids, help the mom to help the kid.

And show their gratitude for our troops. I can't tell you how that makes my kids beam!

When my husband was returning form his first deployment, just after September 11th, I went to Publix to get a rack of lamb for his homecoming meal. The butcher happened to see me looking at lamb, offered his help, and I told him what I was buying and why. He said he'd go pick a cut himself. He came back with the most beautiful rack of lamb he'd just trimmed for me, and told me to thank my husband for his service. I cried over the meat case.

I had no kids yet, so I suppose that's unrelated to military children. But that's how meaningful saying thanks is to military familes. I think it means even more to us than to our servicemembers. Of course they appreciate it. But I know my husband's response is "well, it's my job." Heroes usually don't feel like heroes. They shrug and squirm a bit under praise.

But their kids! For a kid to hear someone else thank their Dad. To see other's respect and appreciate their parent for the job he does when he is missing those birthdays and holidays and weekday dinners . . . they are proud. And pride will get you through a lot of deployment.

Monday, February 22, 2010

I hadn't heard about the Military Spouse Career Advancement Accounts program until my friend Sarah wrote about how she was using it to go back to school for a master's degree. I was just beginning to wonder if I might find a way to begin an MFA program.

I guess I may have missed the boat! I wonder if Michelle Obama follows Sarah Smiley?

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

It was hard coming up with a title for this post, because “education” just doesn’t seem like the best word. It sounds like something you get in a classroom, from books, and from listening to learned instructors. The wisdom I’ve gained as a milspouse has been much harder than that.

I think the hardest part of the kind of wisdom I’m talking about is that no one can tell you what you need to know.

Oh, you can sign up for a seminar at Fleet and Family Support, buy a book from Amazon, or get some handouts at an FRG meeting. And there are all kinds of things that older, more experienced milspouses can tell you, about deployment schedules, planning moves, and going it alone. That might help with some of the small stuff. But you can never really be prepared for this lifestyle. Just as it is with parenting, you really just have to learn from experience.

For military spouses, wisdom really boils down to learning the hard way how strong you really are. That is something we all have to learn individually, because we are all different.

One thing that I have learned is NOT true, is the old cliché that God gives the hardest stuff to the people who are strongest, and so we should take hardship as a compliment. I know for sure that is a bunch of bull. So is the one about how God will only give you as much as you can handle.

I know that we all have breaking points, and I know this because I have seen people break. People who were very close to me, who always smiled and said they were fine.

I’ve learned that stress is not something that just affects those with high-pressure jobs. Or rather, I have learned that being a milspouse and a mom IS a high-pressure job. And that being female and in my thirties does not make me immune to chronic stress. It can and will take me down and give me double pneumonia.

Now that I think again, I have to say there are some things that I HAVE learned from other people. I’ve learned from some very generous and big-hearted milspouses that there are times when you should show up on a person’s doorstep, walk in, and roll up your sleeves to help. Not only unasked, but even despite protests. Because it is notoriously against a milspouse’s nature to ask for help. But nobody told me this, I learned it when fellow milspouses walked in and cleaned my bathrooms, or put casseroles in my oven, or took my toddlers out for a walk on a random afternoon.

They say that one of the reasons that people join the military is to challenge themselves, to learn to be stronger than they thought they could be, and do things they aren’t sure they can do. I think being married to the military is very similar. Of course we aren’t facing combat, but we do sacrifice, and face loss and hardship and heartbreak. Not to mention home repairs.

And like our spouses, some of us get out at first chance, some hang in a bit longer, and some decide to make it home and stay in for the long haul.

As a long-hauler, I can say I am surer of my strength now, and honestly believe there is little I can’t survive.

And what I do know for sure, is that God doesn’t send us hardships because He knows we can handle it. He sends us love and a dedication to service, to face the hardships, and to help each other through it.

Monday, September 07, 2009

One of the spouses in my club has a two week old baby and came down with a fever this weekend. As she has two older kids, and our husbands are deployed, she could use a little help, so another spouse and I picked up her kids the last two days so she could rest with the baby and get well. Yesterday we took them all to the Zoo.

As I have three kids, and my friend has one, we wound up with 6 kids in all. It's really surprising how often we fill up every seat in my 8 passenger Outlook. We put the youngest two in a double stroller, and headed straight to the Children's Zoo, where there's a new playground, kid-sized picnic tables, and a petting zoo. It is quite a feat to keep tabs on all of them in a crowd (Labor Day weekend is probably not the best time to take a group of children to the San Diego Zoo), but we didn't lose any of them, and that is the number one goal, after all.

As we were shepherding the kids around, passing out drinks and snacks, yelling at them to walk, to stop picking flowers, to wait for us, etc., my friend commented that she and I might look like a pair of mormon-type moms with all our kids. I noticed she was in a dress, I was in a denim skirt with sneakers, we both had our hair up, and both daughters had dresses on, too. I grinned and said we made good sister-wives. She doesn't watch HBO, so I had to explain about Big Love.

The illusion only went so far, as at one point we both smelled freshly brewed coffee, and we are both addicts. She said we might have to get some. But then I noticed a stand selling beer, and half-fun-full-earnest suggested we get that instead. A little while later we settled our crew on a log bench at Dr. Zoolittle's Science Show, and my friend handed me a Corona with lime, shattering the mormon-like image. One beer got kicked over, which was totally predictable yet unavoidable. I eventually poured the remaining beer into a kids cup with a lid and one of those whistly-straws. (Don't worry, we did not confuse it with the kids' drinks.)

In the end, I decided that life with six kids definitely is easier with more than one mom. But while having a sister-wife might be handy during times like deployment, I think I can live with having Navy spouse friends instead. When times get tough, we team up pretty well.